Bad Wiring
by Neocolai
Summary: Sometimes the First Order programming kicks in. Sometimes the Resistance is the enemy. Finn has learned to control it, to lock himself away until the urge to kill passes, but one day he fails to recognize the symptoms. (No pairings, only friendship.)


This was written late at night with a good dose of insanity. Some of the characters (okay, Poe - it's all Poe) maybe be a tad OOC because I had too much fun exploiting them. (The story was supposed to be a lot more serious than this.) ;)

* * *

 **Disclaimer: Neocolai does not own Star Wars or anything related thereof.**

* * *

Sometimes old habits kicked in hard. One didn't survive reconditioning without a few _side effects_. Finn recognized the twitches and jolts whenever he surveyed the Resistance hangar and suddenly thought "enemy base". He was careful during such times. He tethered his instincts, turning off signals like "Resistance scum" and "invaluable asset" and "easy target".

No one knew why Finn would abruptly leave the room. Most probably assumed he was attention shy and needed space. A few asked if it was PTSD and if he needed someone to talk to. Only Rey could have guessed – she was a Jedi, after all, and she had to sense the "return to commander" order that infrequently twinged Finn's blaster hand when she was around.

Perhaps Rey was oblivious as Poe, however. Maybe they were all ignorant of the signs. Finn knew them well. He could calculate the amount of time he needed to find an empty room before the command triggered his brain. Ten minutes would clear his head, and life in the Resistance resumed as though he was never part of the First Order. Finn understood his limits, and his strength.

On that one night, when Rey and Poe were both free on the same evening and they were bantering in Poe's room together, Finn miscalculated.

He was distracted. Poe was explaining different animals to Rey and Finn, showing them pictures and mimicking the sounds in a horrid pitch. Rey was nearly hysterical and Finn was begging for Poe to stop bawling like a dissected bantha when the trigger struck. Too dazed from laughing, Finn froze on the couch and stared at the far wall.

 _Don't react. Let it pass._

 _FN-2187, you have your orders._

 _I'm a member of the Resistance –_

 _FN-2187 – No, Finn! My name is –_

 _FN-2187, fulfill your duty._

Duty. The First Order. The room greyed in unfamiliarity. He must have been sent here as a spy. Two Resistance members were in the room with him. The female – _Jedi, wanted alive, return to Kylo Ren_ – was seated on the floor, while the other – _elite_ _pilot, dead or alive, preferably captured –_ rose from the chair opposite FN-2187.

"Finn?" the pilot addressed him. "Are you all right?"

"My designation is FN-2187." He wasn't sure why he needed to establish that before he lunged and rammed his elbow into the pilot's throat. The Resistance scum was caught off guard. He barely struggled before FN-2187 grabbed his wrist and yanked him around, strangling him with an arm around the neck. "You will lay down your weapons and surrender."

"Finn!" the Jedi shrieked. Her alarm was followed by a stomp from the pilot as he recovered his senses. Too late FN-2187 realized their trap. He sidestepped to avoid another boot to his unprotected shin, leaving himself open to the Jedi and her mind tricks. A snap of unseen power thrust him away from his prisoner – and straight towards the pilot's discarded blaster.

"Rey, get down!" the pilot shouted. He scrambled, grabbing for the holster just as FN-2187 seized it. For all his ridiculous bearing, however, the fool was treacherous. Before FN-2187 could free the blaster from its casing a fist smashed into the hollow of his elbow. Another punched the underside of his wrist. He howled in fury as well as pain as the blaster sailed into the Jedi's hands. Where was his armor when he needed it? The flimsy leather jacket only hampered him as the pilot grasped its lapels and yelled,

"Finn, you're among friends! It's me and Rey, understand? You're not part of the First Order anymore!"

Failure seethed into anger and FN-2187 snarled. Now the infuriating pilot was proclaiming lies against the First Order; against his position. The Jedi was no threat – she had yet to raise her lightsaber, and she had flung the blaster away. She remained poised to interfere, but FN-2187 reckoned he had a chance. If he failed in his mission, then at least he would die like Slick – with the blood of the enemy on his hands.

That fool of a pilot had left his arms free. One twist and FN-2187 smashed his fist into the arrogant nose. Cartilage crunched beneath his fist and before the pilot could howl FN-2187 followed with a brutal hook to the eye. He wrenched them both around, straddling the pilot's waist to hold him down. He had been trained where to hit: the eyes, the temples, the space between the eyebrows, the throat. He could kill a man in three strikes. He had no intention of killing this prisoner; the pilot was too valuable alive.

"Stop!" was FN-2187's only warning before his fist was yanked mid-air. He had guessed the Jedi would not stand idly by while her ally was beaten, but the damage was significant enough to pull a bluff.

"You'll kill him," FN-2187 warned. "I cracked the trachea; he'll be choking on his own blood." A lie, of course – he'd avoided the throat for that purpose.

The Jedi trembled, but her grip was firm. "Finn, I know you're in there. That number you said – whatever it means, it isn't who you are. Don't do this."

Her voice was braver than her quivering hands. Finn struggled. He only had to push one bone in the throat to make good his threat. It would be worth it, if he could partially complete his mission. That was all that mattered, after all.

"Finn, look at me!" the Jedi screamed.

Instantaneously the pilot flipped upright, his forehead cracking into FN-2187's. Stormtroopers were trained in personal combat, but desperate rebels were a league of their own. Before FN-2187's shoulders hit the floor the stupid leather jacket was yanked over his head and coiled. His arms entangled in the fabric just as a knee crushed his gut. One sock to his chin rapped his head against the ground, and the ensuing Force-push held him in place.

"Rey, get a sedative," the pilot said raggedly.

"I can hold him, Poe. You should – "

"Just do it!"

Gasping threadily, FN-2187 flexed his arms in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Poe's expression darkened.

"Stay down," he ordered low. Like he was a Resistance officer guarding a prisoner, not pinning down his own…

 _Friend._ The term felt strange yet oddly familiar, and slowly other words followed. _Poe. X-wing fighter. 'You need a pilot.' Rey. Rolling droid. 'I'm a big deal in the resistance.'_

"Poe?" FN – no, _Finn_ croaked as the commands turned into a clamorous echo. He looked around the room, from Rey who was rummaging through Poe's evacuation pack, to his bound arms, to the bloodied face that was eerily reminiscent of the day he rescued Dameron, and kriff and freaking _Force_ he hadn't just…

"I punched you out, didn't I?" Finn laid his head back and closed his eyes.

The rattling on Rey's side of the room ended with a distinct clatter. "Finn?"

Poe gusted a sigh. The pressure on Finn's arms released as the pilot sat back on his heels. There was a wet snort and Finn looked up sharply, flinching when Poe covered his gushing nose.

"Mind telling me whad dat wath all about?" Poe waved his hand to demonstrate the cluttered room.

Rolling upright, Finn detangled the jacket and flung it away. He looped his arms around his knees, breathing harshly. "It's old programming. I'm sorry – I didn't realize it was getting out of hand."

"How often does this happen?" Rey questioned, glancing between them in wariness of a second attack.

 _Too often._ "Sometimes twice a month, occasionally a couple times a week," Finn said. He tentatively rubbed his bruised jaw, unable to face either of them. "It usually fades after a few minutes. I thought I had it under control."

"Led me ged dis straight," Poe garbled. "Every dwo weeks you punch thomeone – nod jutht me."

"Poe, stop it," Rey snapped. "We've never encountered this."

Poe rolled his eyes. "I'mb kidding, okay?"

"It's fine, Rey," Finn interjected. If Poe was teasing, well – he was just that quick to forgive. "But yes – I mean, no. I don't punch someone every time my programing clicks in. Usually I can sit it out; somewhere alone, where no one gets hurt."

"That's why you slip away so often," Rey murmured. "Is it always this violent?"

Finn read concern in her eyes, cutting deeper than the rebuke he expected. She was worried about Finn injuring _himself_ while he was alone. As if he hadn't almost killed Poe minutes ago.

"Never," Finn said in a near whisper. "I've never…." _Almost murdered my friend._

Now he remembered. For an instant it hadn't been the face of any Resistance pilot that splintered under his fist. It was _the_ pilot. The one who had shot Slick. FN-2187 had wanted revenge.

Finn buried his face in his hands.

He flinched when Poe shimmied over to sit beside him. "Tho," Poe said as amiably as could be made out from a pilot pinching his bloody nose. "How do we thtop dis next time?"

"What – no, _we_ don't stop it," Finn argued, risking a glance at Poe's face and cringing when he remembered his fist marking the swollen patches. "You leave the room while I settle myself down. Right, Rey?"

Rey sidled beside Poe and lightly pressed the deepest swelling. She scowled when Poe yelped. "You're fine. Stop being such a baby."

She cast Finn her most determined glare. "You barely grazed him. If you had wanted to kill either of us, you could have done so easily. I saw you grab his throat. You were in the perfect position to snap his neck."

"Love da team bonding we have," Poe gurgled. Rey elbowed him.

"Finn, neither of us are afraid of you. You're not a monster."

Finn itched to look away from those intense hazel eyes, and couldn't. Rey nodded as though proving her point. "We're a family. We look out for each other."

Feeling awkward at the sentiment so soon after his rampage, Finn glanced sidelong at Poe.

"Yeah," Poe said after a lengthy pause. "When we're done dithcuthing family values, I'mb bleeding on da carpet."

"It's just a bruised nose," Rey argued. Clearly scavengers had to lose a hand before they inquired after medical attention. Finn grabbed his opportunity.

"Medcenter," he said, grabbing Poe's elbow and hoisting him up. "Right this way."

"Finn!" Rey scrambled to her feet, a light of hope for him even months after the superweapon's destruction. "Whatever happens with FN-21….whatever it was, just remember; it was never your fault. We'll be here for you every time. No exceptions," she added when Finn opened his mouth.

Deep inside he was grateful. Guilty, all the same. Finn swallowed, trying to word out a reply.

Poe sighed and pointed to his face. "Carpet."

"Yeah, yeah," Finn grumbled, escorting him from the room. It felt horribly reminiscent of the time he had rescued Dameron. If his programing kicked in for real next time; if he actually wanted to kill –

"Finn," Poe mumbled, checking over his shoulder to be sure they were out of Rey's hearing range. He waggled his jaw experimentally and dabbed his nose to see if it was still bleeding. "Th'not your fault."

It was over. Forgiven. Finn knew it couldn't possibly be rectified, but he breathed easier anyways. He hadn't scared his only two friends away. If anything, they were more dogmatic than ever before.

Whenever Rey sensed Finn's conflict in days to come, she sat beside him and Force-calmed his mind until the commands faded to a whisper. Her composure was the moor Finn relied on. (It didn't hurt that on such occasions Rey always let him hold her hand.)

Without the Force Poe was too open a target, and Finn often complained that the pilot exploited his disadvantage. Apparently fighting an expert, enraged stormtrooper was considered "good practice". Poe just isolated Finn in a wide, empty room and exchanged blows until FN-2187 receded. The first time they had fought Poe had been off guard and uncertain. By the fifth time Finn almost wished he could break that arrogant nose again, because those dang pilots of the Resistance knew how to spar and Finn returned to himself with as many bruises as his opponent. (If he hadn't retained the memory of each new technique, Finn would have locked Poe in an empty room _first_ and then barred himself away. Reluctantly, he admitted he learned more from Poe's counter-attacks than the First Order's training.)

With every fresh instance the _command_ waned sooner, and Finn's resistance grew. Over the months he forgot FN-2187's requirements for longer periods of time. He could almost believe he was never part of the First Order.

Even when he was alone at night, safely locked in his room, and the voices of his commanding officers _whispered_.

* * *

 **For those who care, Poe was mimicking a cow mooing earlier in the chapter. Technically cows belong on "that humanoid planet in a galaxy far far away", but I couldn't resist the mental image. XD**


End file.
